Obsessive Compulsive
by Plesiosaur
Summary: OCD isn't fun and it isn't an easy thing to get over. But with the right strategies and the right incentives and a new therapist Marceline is hoping she can be a bit more normal. Real World Bubbline AU one shot.


**This is especially for my fandom loving fiancée and the colossal amount of hard work she puts into coping with her OCD every day. I know how hard that stuff is to get over and I know how much effort it takes sometimes. So if you're reading this and dealing with similar issues, I'm rooting for you.**

* * *

"So then, Miss Abadeer. How can I help you today?"

His smile was off putting, she decided. Slimy and gross, like he was an ugly smug toad or something. She didn't like him. But she'd promised and she really wanted to make it work, so she took a deep breath and replied.

 _Do it for her._

"Well see, it's not really me. It's my girlfriend that has the problem."

He tilted one eyebrow right up in a way that he probably thought made him look like Roger Moore. It just made him look like he'd had a stroke she thought, and she had to swallow down an inappropriate laugh.

"And yet you are the one sitting here talking to me."

Yeah... probably she shouldn't rise to that. But it was impossible to keep her mouth shut.

"That's exactly what I said! I'm _not_ ill! She's so messy it's practically an illness; I mean would it kill her to put the shampoo bottles back in size order? I compromised, I let her buy shampoo that wasn't blue and didn't match the tiles at all and she just leaves it anywhere she wants on the side of the bath like there aren't even any rules! Ah oh don't even get me started on the mugs and the kitchen stuff. I have a _system_ , why is that so difficult to understand? ...It's just, it's irritating."

She mumbled the last part, embarrassed that she'd let her frustrations run away with her like that, uncomfortable in his ridiculously oversized armchair that so many other people had sat in. She could practically feel their bacteria crawling all over her skin. God she wanted a shower so badly.

"I see from reading through your file that you've spoken with a number of therapists about your extreme obsessive compulsive problems since your mother's death. Have you found that the coping mechanisms they recommended have been any help?"

Marceline stopped and considered that. She'd tried delaying her rituals until their grip over her had eased but it didn't help any. She just sat with clenched teeth and sweaty palms trying to count down the minutes until she could do whatever it was, grab the disinfectant wipes and fix the lounge or wash her hair three times with three different shampoos (all blue, all in size order). It hadn't helped at all. She'd tried to tell herself that OCD was just a bully and she was stronger than it but that hadn't actually been true and it turned out that her OCD could beat the tar out of her whenever it wanted. The only thing that had really helped calm her down was playing her bass and then that ended up being a ritual too, something she had to do before she went anywhere or did something that might be stressful. She'd played until her fingers were numb and aching before leaving the house that afternoon. So no, the coping mechanisms her previous therapists had suggested had all been more or less useless. And Marceline was fine with that, she didn't care that other people thought she was a weirdo and hated coming to her home because of the strict rules. It just meant she didn't have to pretend to be comfortable with having guests in her apartment and that was really just a massive relief for her. And then she'd met Bonnie and suddenly the OCD was a problem after all because there was this absolutely fucking perfect person who seemed to want to kiss her and spend time with her and actually get to know all of her ridiculous rules and rituals. It wasn't fair, she'd been so happy being alone and broken. Now she had someone she wanted to fix herself for.

She hadn't answered and honestly if his wall full of framed diplomas were worth anything then her new therapist should be able to work out what that meant. He nodded sympathetically at Marceline's continued silence.

"You told me that your girlfriend's messiness is a problem for you but you're here and doing something you obviously don't want to because of her. So I'm going to say that I think you're very invested in this relationship and also that you're being very brave today. You're making a sacrifice for the one you love."

She looked up at that and the therapist smiled his toad smile. Ok, maybe he wasn't a total idiot. She still didn't like him. But he'd figured her out pretty quickly so maybe he could help after all.

"I just want to be able to have her stay overnight without freaking out and needing an hour alone in a quiet room to calm down again." Marceline muttered, examining her meticulously manicured fingernails instead of meeting his eyes again.

He nodded and when she risked a glance back up at him he was still smiling gently.

And then he suggested a coping mechanism that she'd heard of before, even tried once or twice. But this time she was going to make it work, she had a much better reason to try. She smiled herself then because actually what he was suggesting made a lot of sense, in a strange way. Yeah, she could do that.

...

It was raining when she left the therapist's office and she had a long walk home across town. But for once Marceline wasn't anxious about getting her hair wet; Bonnie had gifted her with a really lovely new umbrella after witnessing a particularly savage meltdown when her old one had broken. Marceline was actually looking forward to using it. She slid it out of the protective sleeve and opened it up, admiring the white outlines of various breeds of duck printed on the black fabric. Ducks were underrated, they were one of the few animals she really liked. And it was adorable that Bonnie had remembered that and bought her something with ducks on it. Her mum had always said the rain was perfect weather for ducks.

Bonnie had been really quite excited about the umbrella and had hidden the box it came in, saying that it was magical and she would have a surprise when she used it. Marceline hated surprises but she loved Bonnie so she graciously agreed to use it anyway. And it had ducks on, how bad could the surprise be? As the first fat raindrop hit the snowy outline of a Mallard right in the middle of the umbrella she grinned hugely.

The ducks turned rainbow colours in the rain. That was her surprise; it was a stealthy LGBT+ umbrella. And it was black and white when it was dry. Like the straight pride flags those moron protesters at last year's Pride march had been waving. So it was... straight until it got wet? …Oh.

Marceline started laughing, hard.

"You are one of the most amazingly filthy people I have ever met, Bon." she told the umbrella around her snickers.

She'd been walking past a bus stop and the heavyset middle aged woman waiting there stared at her like she was crazy, standing in the rain telling her umbrella it was filthy. She just laughed harder and continued walking, grinning from ear to ear and perfectly dry under her magnificent new umbrella.

As she walked Marceline considered what the therapist had told her. Yeah he thought he looked like Roger Moore but she supposed you didn't get a wall full of fancy diplomas for sitting practising your eyebrow impressions in the mirror. He'd said she should start by doing something every day that pushed the boundaries of her comfort zone a little more. Marceline had never had the patience for that kind of softly-softly approach before but now she had pretty huge incentive to try. Get the OCD down to a manageable level and just maybe she could make it work with her amazing new girlfriend.

So when her eye was caught by the display in a second hand shop down town instead of shuddering with revulsion at all those used dirty things that other people had _touched_ she found herself pushing the door open and gazing around at shelves full of chipped and mismatched teapots and mugs. One in particular jumped out at her.

"Excuse me, how much is that one?" she asked the smiling old lady who appeared to be the only staff member around.

"Oh, the pink one? It's a little damaged I'm afraid, we weren't expecting more than 50 pence for it."

A little damaged? Perfect. It made her palms itch uncomfortably just to pick it up. Even better. Marceline fished around in her pocket and slid a pound coin at the old woman, waving off her change and pushing the door open again the moment the proprietor had finished wrapping her purchase.

"You're going to get thoroughly bleached and steam cleaned." she told the package fondly as she slid it into her bag.

When Marceline finally got home the first thing she did was take off her socks and deposit them with a grimace on the middle of the living room floor. Yes it made her scalp prickle and itch to do that and she felt like she desperately wanted to go and shower, but first she needed to fix her new mug. She took it to the sink and bleached it three times, washed it with boiling water then steam cleaned it twice just to be sure. Once it was dry she grabbed her outlining pencil and went to open her craft box and select a hot pink modelling paint.

It often surprised people that Marceline who was such a neat freak did something as messy and nerdy as collecting and painting miniatures. But she'd done it with her older brother before their mother died and her OCD had begun, it reminded her of happy times in his attic bedroom listening to whatever strange new rock band he'd discovered that week and painting tiny demons and vampires. So long as she cleaned up thoroughly afterwards Marceline still indulged her hobby from time to time. And of course it meant that she owned a fairly comprehensive collection of craft paints in more shades than most people even knew existed.

Once she'd outlined the bottom of the mug into its own space on the shelf she very carefully painted the circle it had left in the hot pink, valiantly ignoring the way it clashed with the neat red circles that marked where her regular mugs usually stood. Bonnie had laughed at first then been terribly uncomfortable with Marceline's kitchen system, she'd thought it was a joke and was quite horrified to discover it wasn't. The mugs and plates had their own places and those places were painted onto the shelves, not for Marceline's sake because she knew where everything went but so that the few guests she did have didn't mess it up and cause her the stress of having to rearrange every item in the room just in case it was out of its assigned place. And now her new mug had its place too, right in the middle of the shelf at eye level so she couldn't help but see it every time she needed an item of kitchenware. She bit her lip compulsively, it was like a blaring siren of wrongness flashing right in her line of sight, like it was grabbing her attention and screaming how out of place it was. It was actually difficult to look anywhere else, in fact. Perfect.

Now the only thing that was left to do was to boil the kettle and call her girlfriend.

...

Bonnie rang the buzzer on Marceline's door cautiously. To say she was worried would be an overstatement but she couldn't help feeling a little concerned. It was out of character for Marceline to call her with a surprise, Marceline hated surprises and wasn't fond of speaking on the phone. So when the door opened and her girlfriend greeted her with a big smile and a kiss Bonnie was very relieved. How awful could it be if Marceline was smiling?

"Just sit down, love. I'll bring you some tea!" she called as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Bonnie looked around, trying to work out what was different about the place. The umbrella she'd bought for Marcy was propped on a stand in the hall drying off; maybe that was it. She smiled to herself when she noticed that it was still faintly rainbow coloured, wondering if Marceline had gotten the joke.

The sofa was still as perfectly presented as if it were straight out of a magazine and the books on the shelf by the TV were still arranged in publication date order. But there was something on the rug that shouldn't be there. Bonnie frowned as she took her seat, what the hell?

"Is that a sock?" she demanded the minute Marceline entered carrying a tea tray.

"Yep." she replied simply, smiling enigmatically.

"Why is your sock in the middle of the floor? Doesn't it bother you?"

Marceline carefully placed the tea tray down on the coffee table and settled herself on the sofa before she replied.

"It bothers me immensely; it's itchy and irritating like a mental bee sting. I'm glad you noticed."

She went about pouring the tea while Bonnie stared at her in confusion.

"But you hate mess. You screamed at me for an hour when I left a fork in your sink that time. And now you're throwing your socks in the middle of the floor?"

Marceline just nodded and smiled around her teacup. It was a red and white willow pattern cup from an antique set she'd inherited from her grandmother. It matched the red and white teapot and the red and white tea tray Marceline had painstakingly hand painted because she couldn't find one with exactly the same pattern on it and she claimed that it affected the flavour of the tea if it was served on a tray that didn't match. When Bonnie looked around to grab her own tea she noticed that it in no way matched the tall bright pink mug steaming quietly in front of her.

It was so very intensely pink that it almost sucked her gaze into its fuchsia depths. There was a big white gash across the top where it had been dropped at one point and been damaged. It was clearly second hand and it was covered in lurid red hearts with "I Love You" written in fussy swirls across the front. Bonnie stared at it. It'd been a while since she'd seen anything so aggressively ugly.

"It's got its own place on the shelf." Marceline told her quietly after she completely failed to open her mouth and say anything. "I painted the spot myself in a matching pink. Its handle points to the left, the other mugs point to the right. So I'll never forget that it's yours."

"Why?" Bonnie managed after a moment.

"I have a new therapist and he suggested this coping mechanism. See what's written there on the front of the mug? Well I love you. And I don't tell you enough. Anyway, this new therapist, let's call him Dr Moore, he suggested that every time I commit an act of defiance against the OCD it could also be an act of love, self love or family love or, most importantly, love for you. So I love you because I left my socks on the floor. I love you because I bought you the most hideous mug ever created. I love you because of the dirty joke you made with my new umbrella which made me laugh so hard in the street people stared at me, although that's not really an act of defiance it's just something I wanted to mention. Basically, I love you enough to not just be that weirdo with OCD any more. I love you enough to want to get better."

When they finally did move in together Bonnie's special mug didn't need a specially painted place on the shelf in their new kitchen. None of the mugs did, they were all arranged on the shelf in a lovingly haphazard way.


End file.
